


Combat in Three Quarters Time

by HamishMcCat



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (No they aren't), Fluff, Good and Evil Locked in Combat, Historical sweetness, M/M, Not Beta Read, They're Fighting I Swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamishMcCat/pseuds/HamishMcCat
Summary: “Wanna give it a go?” He asked, inclining his head towards dancers.“Crowley, don't be mean. You know angels cannot dance.” Aziraphale was wringing his hands now, gaze fixed on the dancers, refusing to allow Crowley to see the distress in his eyes.“Is it that angels can't dance, or is it that they won't?” Crowley needled, “Besides, we won't be dancing.”Aziraphale's eyes snapped up to meet the demons with a questioning glare. Crowley knew this was a sensitive subject for him and Aziraphale couldn't understand why he continued to poke fun.“You're going to thwart me.” Crowley continued, “In hand to hand combat...to music.”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Combat in Three Quarters Time

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, I have less dancing skill than Aziraphale.

Aziraphale stared into the window of the ballroom with what only could be described as longing. The food had been impeccable and the was company stimulating, more so than he expected due to the presence of a certain demon. But now was the part of the party the angel always dreaded. The dancing. 

It was always awkward to make excuses. He had feigned more turned ankles than he would care to count. He most often found himself exactly where he was now, standing in the chill of the evening, on the outside looking in. 

It wasn't as bad as usual though. Crowley was there, and Aziraphale always enjoyed watching Crowley dance. He was a torrent of fiery red hair and brocade black clothes sweeping across the dance floor. Aziraphale could watch him for hours, and often did. 

Aziraphale eyes briefly lit on the party’s hostess, a pretty young Baroness who he was here to bless, before he turned his attention back to the dance floor, seeking out Crowley. 

Aziraphale could no longer spot the demon. His dark clothes and bright hair was such a contrast to the sea of pastels and browns, he usually stood out like a beacon. 

Aziraphale leaned in closer to the window, trying to get a better view, rising onto his tip toes. But still no sign of the demon. 

“Looking for someone, angel?”

Aziraphale started and let out a small meep of surprise at Crowley’s sudden appearance at his elbow. His eyes raked over Crowley as the demon also stood on his toes, peering into the window, as though he was trying to see what Aziraphale was looking for. His mouth was turned up in a smirk. He knew exactly who the angel was searching the crowd for.

“What are you doing out here? You should be in there. I know how you love to dance.” Aziraphale shivered involuntarily as a breeze blew across the veranda. 

Crowley stopped looking through the window and leaned, nonchalantly, against the window frame and regarded Aziraphale over his glasses. 

“Not with you out here like this, face all scrunched up to the glass.” He huffed, “It's like trying to enjoy a banquet with a starving orphan staring in at you.”

“Well I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distress you.” Aziraphale turned back to watching the dancers. He really didn't want Crowley to also make him feel guilty about not dancing. 

“Nah, it's fine.” Crowley dismissed quickly. “Wanna give it a go?” He asked, inclining his head towards dancers. 

“Crowley, don't be mean. You know angels cannot dance.” Aziraphale was wringing his hands now, gaze fixed on the dancers, refusing to allow Crowley to see the distress in his eyes. 

“Is it that angels _can't_ dance, or is it that they _won't_?” Crowley needled, “Besides, we won't be dancing.”

Aziraphale's eyes snapped up to meet the demons with a questioning glare. Crowley knew this was a sensitive subject for him and Aziraphale couldn't understand why he continued to poke fun. 

“You're going to thwart me.” Crowley continued, “In hand to hand combat...to music.”

“You're being ridic...” Aziraphale could not complete his thought as suddenly Crowley was on him, his right hand tightly gripping the angel’s waist, while his left hand grabbed Aziraphale's right and was holding it aloft. Aziraphale's left hand went to Crowley's shoulder to try to push him away, but the demon refused to budge. 

“No, see, here you are, grappled with your wiliest of adversaries.” Crowley tightened his grip and pulled Aziraphale closer to him as he shifted his right hand from Aziraphale's waist to the small of his back. Aziraphale continued to cling to his shoulder. 

“Now if I were to step forward…” Crowley stepped forward with his left foot, forcing Aziraphale to step back with his right. “Yes, see, you would take a step back to counter. And if I take a step to the right…” Crowley stepped to the right, his hands and feet guiding Aziraphale's movements. 

“I would go left to block you.” Crowley’s purpose finally dawned on the flustered angel. 

“Exactly. And now that you've blocked me, I'll take a step back…”

“And I follow.”

“Ah, angel, I knew you'd be a natural at hand to hand combat. Back to the start now.” A quick shifting of feet brought them back to their original position. “Now I'm going to move a little bit faster now, and you can't let me get past you.”

“What happens if you get past me?” 

Crowley smirked, “If I get passed you, I'll start weaving my wiles all over this party.”

“Oh, well my dear, I can't allow that to happen. Clearly I must stick to you like glue and thwart your attempts to escape me.” For the first time since leaving the ballroom, Aziraphale beamed a genuine smile so bright it made Crowley grateful for his tinted glasses. Crowley, in return, graced Aziraphale with one of his rare, genuine ear-to-ear grins. 

The pair continued their ‘fight’ along the veranda in time to the music that drifted out from the ballroom. Crowley was a wiley adversary indeed. He occasionally pushed his torso forward towards Aziraphale keeping his hand locked on his back, causing the angel to dip back. Sometimes he would drag his leg out in a wider step. Once he even released his grip on Aziraphale's back and caused the angel to spin away from him. While that was a crafty trick, Aziraphale's combat reflexes allowed him to spin right back into Crowley's awaiting arms. 

Their combat continued for several songs, their movements only stopping when the music ceased and the sound of applause came from inside. They continued to cling to one another, breathing deeper than normal. They reluctantly stepped apart as they heard the sounds of the veranda doors opening. 

“The orchestra must be taking a break.” Crowley observed as people began to drift out into the evening air. 

Aziraphale looked around and found that Crowley had danc...fought him away from the ballroom and to a dark and secluded corner of the veranda. 

“I probably should take the chance to talk to the Baroness before it gets too late.” Aziraphale’s voice was filled with regret. 

"Duty calls.” Crowley glibly replied before snatching up Aziraphale's hand, bowing down and meeting Aziraphale's eyes over his glasses. “It has been an honor to face you in combat, Principality Aziraphale. I hope I will have the pleasure of grappling with you again soon.” He said this with a smirk and a touch of humor in his voice, but his eyes showed nothing but earnestness. He gently pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's knuckles. 

“Oh, you silly serpent. The pleasure was all mine.” Crowley straightened and the two grinned at each other. “And I would be more willing to engage in combat in three quarter time again.”

Aziraphale and Crowley parted company for the evening. Aziraphale, who never found a semantic loophole he wouldn't exploit, never did dance, until, of course, he learned the gavotte in a discreet gentleman's club in Portland Place. Even Aziraphale couldn't call the gavotte anything other than a dance.

After that night, Aziraphale was no longer as reluctant to accept assignments that involved attending balls and dances. In fact, he attended a few he wasn't even assigned to, if he knew a certain someone would be there. At each of these dances, if one of the guests were to look outside during the dancing portion of the evening, they may have witnessed the age old battle of agents of Heaven and Hell locked in combat.


End file.
